


and the haze and aftershock

by ebonynightwriter



Series: Shallura Month 2017 [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftermath, Canon Universe, Drama, Explosions, F/M, Future Fic, Hugs, Hurt / Comfort, One-Shot, Post-Defeat of Zarkon, Post-War, Shallura Month 2017, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-12 18:52:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12966111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebonynightwriter/pseuds/ebonynightwriter
Summary: He arrives at the scene within seconds of leaving. He has to find her, hehasto…





	and the haze and aftershock

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** A small, random moment / idea since I didn't want to do anything about Altea / Earth. _*shoves fic into prompt and hope it makes sense*_
> 
> -.-
> 
>  **[shallura month (2017) // day 7](http://ebonynightwriter.tumblr.com/tagged/mine:%20shallura%20month%202017)** · homecoming
> 
> -.-

He’s not there when it happens — he’s off on another planet, an entire system away, keeping peace like they’re all trying to do but he _knows_ he should have been there. They should have all been there — they should have expected it beforehand.

But they didn’t.

The war may be won, but the fight never ends.

.

.

.

He arrives at the planet within seconds, the Black Lion teleporting them in the blink of an eye. A fog of smoke pools above the city, visible even from the planet’s orbit, and Shiro wastes no time entering the atmosphere, his speeder deployed before the Black Lion reaches the ground. He takes the fastest route he can; swerving between traffic lanes and hover-cars, the dark soot pillar a beacon on the horizon. After a few blurred minutes, he reaches the site of the meeting hall – a horde of onlookers gathered at its front.

Through them, he spots Coran.

Leaving his speeder at the edge of the building, he runs, squeezing through the crowd as he follows the familiar head of orange. He breaks through a clear spot just before the building. Coran paces just a few feet away, hand pressed against his chin as he stares at a communicator display. He stops in surprise as he spots the white armor, stark against the gray air.

“Shiro!” he calls, turning his way as he approaches. “I was just trying to contact you, how did you—”

“The galactic broadcast,” he answers. “I came as soon as I heard. How did this happen? Where’s Allura?”

“She’s with the other representatives inside,” Coran says, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “Planet security’s trying to keep them all together. We don’t know if this was a generalized attack or not, it all happened so fast…”

Shiro walks past him.

“H-hey!” Coran calls, waving his communicator. “They won’t just let you in!”

His fingers roll, tightening with fury.

“We’ll see about that.”

He marches into the building.

.

.

.

A haze looms in the air.

Shiro squints, the remnants of ash and smoke clouding his vision as he goes down the hall. Crews of disaster workers pass by in front of him, running in tight squads as they go to their tasks. He reaches the end of the hall, watching the backs of one group as they enter a room not too far from his right, it’s door blown into the wall opposite. The scent of smoke hangs around it, so strong its almost nauseating. He can see the pieces of debris that scatter the floor on the inside — specks of drying fluid splattered over rock. The sight of it leaves a dead feeling in his gut, and he looks the other way, where two armed beings stand at the far end of the left path, their backs facing a shut door.

He goes that way.

“Halt,” the right guard says, holding a out as he approaches. “Identify yourself.”

“My name is Shiro,” he says. “I’m a Paladin of Voltron, here to see Princess Allura.”

“No one can enter the chamber,” the left one says, their blaster firm against their chest. “You must leave.”

“I want to make sure she’s alright,” he says. “Can’t you just—”

“All the representatives have been checked over by the medical team,” the right guard says. “We cannot let you in, even if you are who you say you are.”

“I _am_ who I say I am!” he says, voice raising. He takes a step forward, arms open at his sides. “I just want to _see_ her, I… let the Princess know I’m here, she’ll—”

The left guard points the blaster at him.

“Leave,” they say. “We will not warn you again.”

Her voice comes from behind the door.

“Shiro?” she calls. “Is that you?”

The guards look to one another.

“Allura!” he replies. “Yes! Yes, it’s me!”

The door opens.

“Princess!” the right guard says as she sticks her head out. “You shouldn’t—”

She goes right past them.

Throwing herself into him, her arms wrap around his back with a grip stronger than Voltron’s shield. The guards stand for a few long seconds, mouths agape, before quickly shutting the doors once again, eyes quietly averted. He lifts a hand across her back, holding her close as he takes a breath. Her hair is thick with the scent of smoke.

He waits until she lets go.

“Are you alright?” he asks, hands on her shoulders. She looks away, stress wearing at her face as her eyes go to some far distance away. Then she reaches up, hand hanging off his wrist.

“I’m fine…” she says, a slight smile on her lips. “Just—”

She sighs, her expression flattening. Shiro takes a step forward, pulling her into him once again. He wraps an arm around her, and she rests her chin against him, air running against his ear as she takes long, deep breaths. Her weight growing as she presses into him.

“I’m tired,” she whispers. “I’m just… tired of this…”

He shuts his eyes, squeezing her.

“I know,” he says, releasing his hold. She lifts her chin, and he looks into her eyes, so worn with grief and regret. Brushing a hand against her cheek, he manages a smile.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go home.”

He turns to her side, placing an arm over her shoulders. The guards call back to them, but their voices land on deaf ears.

And they walk out together.


End file.
